The Other Body
by AlessNox
Summary: aka Love Autopsy. After helping Sherlock fake his suicide, Molly finds that she has another body to take care of. The body of her former boyfriend Jim, also known as James Moriarty. Rated T for disturbing images. *
1. Chapter 1 The Sherlock Coverup

THE OTHER BODY

by Aless Nox

1. The Sherlock cover up

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as the body was finally wheeled out of the morgue for transport to the funeral home, a "_**Do Not View**_" note firmly taped to the top of the bag. The personal items labeled to be sent to the next of kin had already been taken to the front office.

Molly was comfortable here in the dark recesses of St. Bartholemew's Hospital. The metal tables and the hard white floors that made up the autopsy room were more familiar to her than her home. Even so, Molly had sweat blood every minute of the autopsy, afraid that some detail of her deception would have been discovered, but miraculously it had all worked out.

Last night, Sherlock had come to her for help. He needed to fake his death as Irene Adler had hers. He needed a body. The time frame was impossible, but Molly was very good at her job. Luckily, a match, close enough, had just come in just the day before. Aneurysm, body donated to science. _Rigor mortis_ had passed so others would simply assume that it had not yet set in. Even so there was work to do to make it look like Sherlock.

She used a chemical to make the lenses of the eye more clear (they tended to cloud up after death), and the hair... It was hard enough to dye hair when the person was alive! Molly was afraid that someone would notice that the curls, instead of being natural, were made by a few minutes with her curling iron. An item so rarely used that she had never even taken off the white twisty thing that held the cord.

She had worked all night, looking over her shoulder, afraid that someone would wonder what she was doing here so late. This was of course a stupid thought. She was often here at odd hours. The morgue was Molly's life. The one thing in the world that she was actually good at.

Dating, she wasn't good at. Even if she did work up the courage to talk to a bloke, he usually ran screaming when he found out that she cut up bodies for a living. No man wanted to hear about that. No man...except Sherlock.

She had thought that the coat would be a major problem until Sherlock admitted that he had two of them. Even so it had required an early morning run to the dry cleaners, banging on the door to make sure that she could get the coat and get back in time to dress the body.

The other clothes were easier. Sherlock kept some in a locker here at Bart's for when he did his marathon lab investigations. Once he didn't go home for a week! Molly had looked in on him every day fantasizing that his fatigue would make him ask for her help, maybe to rub his back, or to let him lie down for a bit on her cot. The cot that she had brought into her office only after he had started showing up here so often. He had finally asked for her help to do some tests before running off to Scotland Yard.

Molly printed the autopsy form. She placed a mark beside the word "Suicide" in the section labeled "Classification of Death". Her hand shook a bit as she signed the form attesting that all data were "true and correct" She crossed the gloved fingers on her other hand trusting playground logic to save her.

If anyone found out what she had done, she would lose her license. She would probably lose it anyway once Sherlock was found alive. He had told her the risks, and she had said that she'd do anything.

"If there's anything you need, anything at all. You can have me." Molly had said, and he had asked for her. For her word. For her silence. For her reputation. She had done everything that he had asked for, and more.

Molly had told Sherlock the precise time to plan the fall. The time when all of the factors were best for a successful cover up.

The assistant today was little Sharon Alford. Molly had never thought herself old until Sharon had joined the team, newly degreed and excited about her first chance to work with bodies. Sharon had never met Sherlock. Something about her Welsh accent and the cute way that her ponytail swung when she walked down the hall made all mention of Sherlock dry up in Molly's throat when she came by, especially when she asked, "do ya have a boi friend?"

The head of the department would usually be here, but today he had been asked to give a lecture at Cambridge and he would be gone 'til evening. This made Molly the senior, and as long as she kept her cool no one should ask any questions.

The door opened and she turned to see a policeman standing there.

"We've just finished." Molly said a little too cheerfully. "I need to copy this report then we should be done."

The policeman looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face. He stood aside to show his partner standing beside a trolley.

"But, what should we do with the other body?" he asked.


	2. Chapter 2 The Other Body

2. The Other Body

Ever since that evening when Sherlock had met her in the darkened lab and begged for her help, Molly had been as tight as a violin string. She had never been a good liar, and now she was helping Sherlock tell the biggest lie of all. The lie that he was dead.

But Sherlock had escaped from the area leaving Molly behind to cover his tracks. Her entire mind had been wrapped around her mission. She had to make everyone believe that the body was Sherlock's. She had been focused on trying to get the body away and buried before anyone noticed that it wasn't. So when the officer mentioned "The other body" she stared blankly at him.

"What other body?" Molly asked stepping through the double doors and out into the hallway. She looked down blankly at the black body bag on the trolley.

"The second suicide." The taller policeman said propping the door open.

"Someone else fell?" she asked surprised.

"No." The officer said, "He didn't jump. Can we bring the body in now, we've been waiting."

"Of course." Molly said stepping aside so that the smaller officer could push the trolley into the room. The wheel creaked as it rolled across the polished concrete floor.

Molly poked her head into the autopsy room, and called out to her assistant, "Disinfect the table will you Sharon?"

The morgue at St. Bartholemew's hospital was a largish place made of a series of attached rooms. The double doors led from the hallway into an small entry containing a few pieces of commonly used equipment. Smaller doors led to her office and that of her supervisor. The big door came into the operating theater where autopsies were performed. One entire wall was taken up by windows for medical students to view the procedure. A row of sinks sat below the windows. The other wall was taken up by refrigerators that were used to store the bodies until they could be worked on. There was a small storage room behind the operating theater where items such as gloves, files, body bags and sterile sheets, were kept.

Molly pulled the trolley to the side of the entry room and under the X-ray machine. Then she set the machine to warm up.

"Where did this one come from?" Molly asked them.

"The roof" The first policeman said, "Blew his brains out with a bloody big gun. We found him during the investigation of...the other one, you know, that detective guy."

Molly frowned, "Sherlock Holmes you mean."

"Yeah that guy. A man was sent up to photograph the site that he jumped from, and he found the other body. That raised all sorts of questions. Maybe this bloke pushed him and then shot himself. Or maybe they fought over the gun and this one got shot, so the other jumped. Since murder was a possibility, they called a whole team down. The investigators took forever taking pictures. That's why we just got the body down here now."

Molly put on the lead apron. "I suggest you boys step back if you want to have children, I'm about to run the X-ray." Molly said. The men jumped back 6 feet and she ran the machine across the body, looking on the screen at the man in the bag.

"Nice coat." Molly said

The officer peered at the black and white image on the screen, "You can tell that just by looking?" He asked.

"Yes" Molly answered,"That and the cut of his boots. They look very fine. Who was this person?"

"We don't know." The smaller officer said, "Because of the state of the case, nothing was touched. We're supposed to take all of the personal effects to Scotland yard as soon as you've finished the initial examination."

"So you're waiting on me?" Molly asked a bit nervously.

"Yeah." The tall officer said, "We need this corpse stripped, and everything bagged."

"You do know that an autopsy takes some time." Molly asked them.

"We were told to wait."

Molly sighed. She had hoped after the stress of this morning to take a coffee and a bit of lunch, but Sherlock's autopsy would look even less suspicious if it was only one of the ones that she had done that day.

Molly blew out a breath, "There are some benches down the hall, you can wait there." She said," We'll get it done as soon as we can."

The officer nodded and they hurried out. Most people didn't like to stay in the morgue for long. Some cited the smell, but that was mostly in their minds. Bodies were refrigerated. They weren't left out to decay. The odor of disinfectant was the most overpowering scent in the room. Molly found the smell slightly comforting.

The sound of the squeaky wheel echoed off of the hard steel and glass walls as Molly pushed the cart alongside the autopsy table. Sharon grabbed the feet and together they moved the body onto it before wheeling the trolley away.

Sharon moved to open the zipper, but Molly stopped her.

"We should change gloves first." She said, "We don't want to mix anything from the two bodies."

"Right!" Sharon said nodding as she took off the old gloves tossing them into the hazardous waste bin. Molly came up behind her a bit more slowly. 'Was I ever that eager?' she thought, knowing in her heart that she had been.

"Remember to put on two pairs of gloves!" Molly called out.

"Oh! Right!" Sharon said again bouncing a bit as she pulled another pair out of the box.

Molly walked over to the table and unzipped the bag. She stared at the face inside, and her hands flew to her mouth as she let out an exclamation of surprise.

Sharon hurried over to look. She looked from the dead man's face to Molly's shocked one and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I know him" Molly said "It's my old boyfriend Jim."


	3. Chapter 3 Love Autopsy

3. Love Autopsy

Sherlock had told Molly that Jim from IT, her old boyfriend, was really the criminal mastermind Moriarty, but on some level, She had not believed them. She turned away from the body her hands still to her mouth. That was Jim's face. That was definitely Jim. Had been Jim.

"Molly" Sharon said. "You don't have to do the autopsy if you know him. We can leave him in the freezer until Dr. Kahn gets back."

Molly took a deep breath and turned back around. She inched closer to the body. Yes it was Jim alright, but different. Molly had seen the pictures in the paper of Moriarty. They had looked like Jim, a bit, but pictures looked like lots of people. Molly knew a woman who swore that her daughter looked exactly like Angelina Jolie. Pictures weren't proof, but this was real because it was really him. He was really, Jim, and he was really dead.

"Get out the camera," Molly said. "Let's do this right. I've gotta change my gloves again, I think I contaminated these."

Sharon pulled the camera over to the table while Molly went to stand by the sink. She put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. _"Jim."_ she thought, _"Why?"_

Molly had first met Jim, well she didn't meet him exactly, he contacted her on her blog. She realized later that he had found the blog because she had accidentally mentioned Sherlock's name, but at the time it was exciting that someone had noticed her.

Jim told her that he worked the night shift at the hospital and had seen her around. He asked her out for coffee. At first she was a bit scared. There are all kinds of weirdos out there, but he had seemed so normal. And sort of cute.

Molly pulled off her gloves and washed her hands again. Then she dried her hands and struggled to get the new gloves over her wet fingers. When she finally got back to the table, Sharon had the camera all set up.

"Really if this is too much, we can find someone else to..." Sharon began

"No." Molly said, "I'm the one on duty, I can do my job."

Molly pulled the zipper the rest of the way down. The camera was mounted on a rolling stand. There was a trigger mechanism on a long cable. She picked it up and clicked to take a picture.

First it took a picture of Jim's face, James' face. It was covered with the stubble of a day old beard. Jim had complained to her that his hair grew too fast. His eyes were open staring up at nothing. It was customary to close the eyes before _rigor mortis_ fixed them open but no one had. He must have been dead for a few hours. The eyelids probably wouldn't close now, so he stared up at the camera over his head unseeing and unfeeling.

His hair was slicked back away from his head in a way that Jim never wore it. He was wearing an extremely expensive outfit that Jim couldn't afford. It was finally dawning on Molly that it was true. Jim had been an act. Moriarty was an actor who only pretended to like her. Only pretended to be her boyfriend.

Sharon moved the camera, and Molly took another picture. She could see the leather collar of his coat. The lapels of his expensive suit. Jim had worn sweatpants and tee shirts.

Picture after picture just confirmed what Sherlock had told her. Jim was James Moriarty. Everything from his silk necktie down to his designer shoes confirmed it. They rolled the camera away and she picked up the clipboard to fill out the autopsy form.

She stopped on the first line.

**Name of Decedent.**

What was his name? His real name? It wasn't Jim? Was it really James. Who could know? Everything that she had known about him was a lie. She left it blank.

**Age**

Thirty two. That is what Jim had told her that night that they had sat together in the canteen. He said that he had just moved to town and taken this job. It was hard to meet people when you worked the night shift. He had asked her how long she had worked at the hospital, and how long since she last had a boyfriend. When she said that she was too old to still be single, Jim had told her that he was thirty two. She was surprised to find that he was the same age that she was.

But that was probably another lie, so she left it blank.

**Gender**

**_Male_**

She wrote it instantly. Despite what Sherlock said about him being gay. Despite how he had acted gay around her, she had always known he wasn't. People thought that Molly was naïve. That she didn't understand sex that well because she could still count her sexual partners on one hand. On two fingers really, but when she had stood next to Jim she had felt something very male about him. It made her tingle to think of it. His smell was musky and deep in a way that couldn't be hidden by the cheap perfume he had tried to mask it with. When she closed her eyes she could remember how she felt when he touched her. At once aroused and confused. She had thought at the time that it was because she was only dating Jim to make Sherlock jealous. Now she thought that maybe it was the dissonance between Jim and James. A tale-tell clue that he was lying. If it was, she had totally misinterpreted it.

**Eyes**

_**Brown**_

Molly remembered Jim's brown eyes searching hers. His mischievous smile followed by an embarrassed look away as he sat on her couch watching Glee. Jim's eyes had been nice, but that was one place where Jim could never win. Jim's eyes were nothing compared to Sherlock's.

Molly still felt a chill run up her back just remembering how he had cornered her last night. His eyes looked green in the darkened lab as he focused all of his attention on her.

_"What do you need?"_ She had asked.

_"You."_ he had replied. And she had thought for a moment that she was asleep, because he had said exactly this a thousand times in her dreams.

**Hair**

**_Dark Brown_**

Molly remembered how she had compared the color of Jim's hair with Sherlock's. It was nowhere near as cute and curly as his though. Jim's was short and very well groomed, but she wouldn't call it cute.

Molly put down her clipboard. They would need to take off the clothes before measuring the body. Molly pushed down the sides of the bag to give her room. She would start with the shoes.


	4. Chapter 4 Exposed

4. Exposed

Jim's shoes were leather, shiny, expensive. She had no idea what designer they were, but she knew that they were designer something. The bottom of the shoes were scuffed. He had worn them for several days now. This wasn't just a shoe that he had bought for this one occasion. He really did wear these kinds of clothes. Molly sat the shoes down side by side on the table. She removed his socks putting them beside the shoes and then moved up to his head.

Molly looked again at the head. She was not frightened by unpleasant sights, one got used to them in this job, but anyone else might be disturbed by the vacant stare on his face. By the way his half-open mouth gaped like a fish. She should come back and get samples of the gun powder burns later. She turned to examine his clothes.

She put her hand on his coat. Molly had thought that she would never see a coat that she liked as much as Sherlock's, but this coat was stylish too. She found that she wanted to see Jim alive wearing this coat. She had avoided looking at coverage of the trial, and so she had never seen the expensive clothes that Moriarty usually wore. He was rich. Who could have guessed that she had been dating such a rich man.

She ran her hand down the inside of the coat pulling it off of one arm. The _rigor_ was only starting, so she was able to get it off of the first arm, but Sharon had to help her roll the body so that she could remove the rest of it. She laid him back down and began work on his tie. Jim never wore ties. Said that he could never take a management job because it meant that he'd have to wear a 'monkey suit'. Lies. Lies. Lies.

She removed the suit. Undid the shirt. Opening it to expose his chest. Now his skin was all white with the paleness of death. Then it had been dark and smooth that one time he had taken off his shirt in her apartment in order to change it for another, inflaming Molly's fragile feelings. More Lies.

She opened his belt and removed his trousers still expecting to see the underpants with the green waistband. But these were normal. The other were part of the disguise as well. She started to take the trousers off and stopped. There was something stuck to his underpants.

"Sharon can you please pass me those tweezers?" Molly asked as she leaned forward.

Using the tweezers, Molly carefully picked a hair off of Jim's underpants. It was long. Longer than any of his hairs, and red. Her hand shook. Sharon gave her a bag and she placed the hair it in.

"Label that would you?" She asked Sharon who turned away to get a marker leaving her a moment to come to terms with her jealousy.

Molly furrowed her brow wondering. _"Why was she jealous of Jim? He wasn't hers. Besides he was gay. Or was he? Obviously some woman had been close enough to him to leave her hairs on his underpants, so he probably wasn't gay. But then if that were true, why hadn't he made a pass at her?"_ Molly shook her head. 'Get yourself together.' she thought, 'This is just another dead body. You do this everyday.' She took off the trousers and the pants.

**Jewelry**

No rings, no piercings, no tie pin. No watch.

Jim had worn a watch. Not expensive, no, but he wore one. He also had worn a chain around his neck, and sometimes he would hang a little silver band around his earlobe. Molly had thought this made him look modern and a little bit wild. This body below her had no jewelry to identify him. No baubles to give him personality. He didn't need it. He was unique enough in himself. No one was as good a mimic. No one had made her feel so much of fool. (Except Sherlock that is.)

Now that the body was completely naked, Molly found it easier to work. She noted the level of _rigor mortis_ and looked behind his neck noting the level of _livor mortis_. Filling in the marks, checking off the boxes. Doing her job.

When they got to this point, they weren't people anymore. They were husks, empty shells, places where life had once resided. Nothing made you appreciate being alive more than working around those who weren't. She peered at the skin looking for tattoos. She couldn't find any. Jim had said that he didn't like tattoos because he never wanted to be marked like slaves were. His voice had sounded weird when he said it, as if he were a bit angry. He had covered it over by complementing her dress a moment later, and she had almost forgotten about it. Now she wondered if that had been his true voice, Moriarty's voice.

**Scars**

She ran her gloved hand across his waist and touched a huge scar, long-healed just below the waistline. She recognized a bullet wound when she saw one. Molly had seen a lot of wounds in this job. Jim had been shot in the abdomen years ago, but he had survived. _"That must have been quite a story."_ Molly thought. _"I'd have loved to hear it."_

He was thin and his ribs were visible beneath the skin. She ran her finger across the surface of one, feeling the bumps that showed where a rib had broken and healed not quite in the right place. This broken rib was recent, within the year.

She looked behind the ears and in the nose. Then she turned the arm and she saw ... letters scratched on the skin until they made a raised scar. Scratched deep with a needle so that a word stood out clear on his right arm, the word SHERLOCK.

As Molly turned away picking up the pad to write this all down, Sharon bent over the arm and read it. "Did he know … the other one? Do you think? Don't you think this could have been a lover's suicide? They were probably together? Why else would he scratch Sherlock's name on his arm. And they do both dress extremely well."

"That's enough Sharon!" Molly yelled at her uncharacteristically.

"Oh Molly, I'm sorry. I forgot." Sharon said apologetically.

"Take the measurements, I'm going to look through the effects." Molly said as she walked over to the table. Behind her Sharon awkwardly tried to measure Jim's length using a meter stick. Molly ignored her.

Molly ran her hands through the coat and pulled out a phone placing it down on the table. The trousers held a wallet. She opened it. She wanted to see his name in print, the name James Moriarty, not Jim, but she was surprised to find another name on the identification cards. Inside next to Jim's picture it read Richard Brook. Who was Richard Brook? Was this his real name or another fake one. Could you do that? Get an entire wallet full of fake cards made for you? Molly closed the wallet and turned to look over her shoulder. The viewing room was empty, so Sharon was the only person who could see what she was doing.

Molly called to her, "Sharon, could you get me one of those bacteria sample tubes? I need to do under his nails."

Sharon looked up. "Okay!" she said putting away the tools and walking over to look on the shelf. "There aren't any here." Sharon said.

"There should be some in the lab. Do you mind?" Molly asked.

"No, I don't mind." She said cheerfully and bounced toward the door.

"Gloves! Gloves!" Molly yelled and Sharon stopped where she was walking back to throw away her gloves before leaving.

Now that she was gone Molly looked more carefully through the wallet. It had fifty pounds in it and a collection of cards in the name of Rich Brook including an Actors Equity membership card. Sherlock had said something about Moriarty pretending to be an actor. Sherlock had been framed. He told her that a reporter would claim that all of the crimes were either faked or had been done by him. These cards would be part of the case against him. These cards had been manufactured to hurt him. If she took the cards, if she hid them away, then there would be less evidence to support the reporter's claim against Sherlock.

The men outside had said that nothing had been removed from the body, so she must be the first to have seen this. But then again, hadn't she done enough illegal things today? It would be bad if she was caught stealing them. She had X-rayed the wallet. Someone might be able to guess that something had been removed, but then again, maybe not. Molly's hand wavered over the cards. She closed the wallet and put it back on the table. It wasn't worth the risk.

In the other trouser pocket, she found a couple of pieces of gum. She placed them down on the table. Then she went through the coat pockets. She probably wasn't supposed to be doing this. Scotland yard probably wanted all of the evidence intact, but she couldn't help herself. Somewhere in her heart she still believed in Jim. She still believed that something of him was real.

Molly knew that the man on the table was not who the cards claimed him to be, but even though the name Richard Brook was fake, it was true that Moriarty had been an actor. She had seen enough evidence today to prove to herself that Jim had lied to her. But even so, there had to be something of Jim in Moriarty, didn't there?

Yes, he had come up with the plan in order to meet, Sherlock. That was why he had given Sherlock his phone number, because he wanted to meet him, not because he was gay. The gay thing was an act. But then... was any of it real? Did Jim care about her at all?

_"I guess I was hoping for a note."_ Molly said to the empty room acknowledging to herself her true motivation for the search. She wanted to find some evidence that he had liked her at least a little. That anyone would find her attractive. She sighed.

She folded the suit and set it aside, then in the pocket of his dress shirt she found it. A piece of folded pink paper the shape of half a heart. It had her name written on it. Molly's eyes began to water.

_"He did leave me a note."_ She smiled, _"Jim knew that he was going to die here. He knew that I would find his body. I was right. He did care for me."_

Even though Jim had lied to her with words, somewhere in his heart he had cared about her a little. Sherlock was wrong, it wasn't just an act. Some of Jim, her boyfriend Jim existed. She opened the heart-shaped note and read it only to crumple it a moment later and toss it angrily to the floor. It said:

**Lovely Molly**

**You always wanted to get your hands on Sherlock.**  
**I give him to you.**

**Love **

**Jim**

The man was a monster. A monster! Everything was a trick and a lie. All he wanted was to use her to hurt Sherlock. She was glad that he was dead!

Molly opened the wallet and took out all of the cards with the name Richard Brook on them placing them in the pocket of her lab coat. She took the clothes and all of the other effects and placed them into plastic bags to be sent to Scotland Yard. Sharon returned with the bacterial tubes just as she was finishing. Sharon placed the pack on the table and re-donned her gloves.

"Do you want me to help you turn the body now?" Sharon asked with a lilt in her voice.

Molly looked down at the corpse. The corners of her mouth turned down as she glanced at him. "Leave it." She said. "Let's bag this trash and put him in the freezer. Dr Khan can do him when he gets back."

Sharon looked up at her eyes wide with surprise." But I thought that this was your boyfriend?" she said slowly in a shocked voice..

" '_Was_' being the relevant word._ I_ dumped him." Molly said as she zipped up the body bag from the feet to the head. She took one last look at his face before closing it with a flourish.

Molly pulled the trolley over to the table, and Sharon helped her place the body back on to it.

"Give this evidence to the officers outside will you?" Molly said, "And do you fancy getting some lunch afterward?"

"Yes! Of course!" Sharon said picking up the bags and rushing out of the room, her ponytail bouncing from side to side in her excitement."

Molly pulled the trolley over to the storage wall. She opened a door and forcefully shoved Jim's body into the slot. She looked down at the bag.

Once that thing had been a man. A man who had smiled at her. A man who had kissed her. A man who had used her. Used her to get to someone that she loved. Although her lips were down-turned in anger, she found that there was a tear on her cheek.

"Can't wipe it now. I've still got my gloves on." She said coldly before slamming the door and shutting Jim out of her heart forever.

THE END

-AN


End file.
